He believes, as do all in Sea Cove, that your father is dead." "Perhaps he is," sighed Bob.

"It is now over six months since the _Bluebell_ went down.

If he escaped in a small boat we should have heard from him before this." "Oh, I cannot believe your father dead, Bob," cried the mother, bursting into tears.

"If I thought that--" She did not finish.
Bob sat down to the supper table in silence.

He had little heart to eat, and swallowed the food mechanically.
Bob was seventeen years of age, bright, handsome, and fearless.